


Dependable

by hitchcock_winter



Category: Emergency! (TV 1972)
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Johnny's driving Roy nuts, M/M, Pining, Roy doesn't deal well, Slash, insecure Johnny, oblivious idiots, smitten Roy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitchcock_winter/pseuds/hitchcock_winter
Summary: Even when Johnny was confoundingly annoying, running up against Roy’s sensibilities like the angry Dominguez Channel after a hard rain, he still ached for him. But it tested his patience, because all of his energy just went toward… pretending. Pretending his partner’s thousand-watt grin didn’t warm his insides in a strange sort of way. Pretending he didn’t think Johnny was some kind of beautiful.Johnny was confoundingly annoying today.
Relationships: Roy DeSoto/Johnny Gage
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Dependable

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm clearly all about the first kiss stories right now. I maybe have another one on the way, too. Then maybe it'll be out of my system. Maybe. This pairing though.
> 
> Thanks again, as always, to Guardy (@johnny's-green-pen on Tumblr) because this very well might have been trashed without their input.

Johnny and Roy were in the station alone, having a strange day because the engine kept getting called out while requests for the squad had been surprisingly absent. But they were having a normal day too, because Johnny was driving Roy absolutely, bone-jarringly mad.

There’s something about the bay when the engine is gone. It felt empty, hungry almost, and everything echoed despite the fact that the much-smaller squad was still there. 

Roy used to think that the squad looked lonely, surrounded by so much space, missing the companionship of Big Red all lit up during the day and especially in the quiet, shadow-filled reverence of the night. But not anymore.

Now Roy looked forward to the engine being gone.

He wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened. It slipped into him slowly, he guessed. An imperceptible fog that crept along his veins until he could no longer ignore it, because it filled him, and it made him _ache_.

It was Johnny, under his skin. Somehow, at some point, something had switched on and his partner’s thousand-watt grin began warming his insides in a strange sort of way. His energy buzzed through Roy, leaving him tingling from his chest to his fingertips and everywhere in between. And when Roy was away from him, it was like he had a gaping hole. He could feel him missing. 

Whether or not his partner’s dark eyes and devil-may-care grin would cut him in good ways or in bad on any given day, Roy could never guess.

Sometimes Roy was happy enough to just be close to Johnny, to feel that electric energy from inches away or when they bumped shoulders or grazed fingers on a run or during chores or. Any excuse, really.

But sometimes being close to Johnny _hurt_. It left Roy reeling with the pain of wanting something – someone – he could never have. He was the lightning Roy could never catch, the livewire Roy could never touch.

Today was one of the latter days.

Maybe it was because of the weather, ripe with the promise of lightning and thunder at any given moment. These sort of days gave Johnny an anxious edge, one that permeated Roy by proxy. Maybe it was because it was mid-afternoon and they only had one run all day. Or maybe it was because it was Saturday, and he should be craving the time with his family, but he didn’t and maybe that meant he deserved the hard kind of ache today.

Even when Johnny was confoundingly annoying, running up against Roy’s sensibilities like the angry Dominguez channel after a hard rain, he still ached for him. But it tested his patience, because all of his energy just went toward… pretending. Pretending he didn’t think Johnny was some kind of beautiful, pretending that Johnny wasn’t the mist that shrouded him from sunup to sundown and in every moment he slept and tried to sleep in the catch-all night. Pretending that the only way he wanted to shut Johnny up didn’t begin with covering Johnny’s mouth with his own.

Johnny was confoundingly annoying today.

“All I’m saying is, ya just, you know, don’t know how to live a little.”

Roy glowered at his partner, electricity pulsing through him with frustration and… something else. They’d already been talking about this particular hang-up for too long. He was hot around the collar. He was ready to throttle Johnny. And if he was being honest, the thought of him touching his partner’s warm, tan neck had Roy swallowing hard.

“Just because I don’t go skydiving on my weekends doesn’t mean I don’t know how to live,” Roy said, eyes moving from Johnny’s carotid to the utility sink where Johnny was filling the mop bucket.

“Oh, give me a break, Roy. You know I don’t skydive.” Johnny rolled his eyes, irritated at the comment, flailing the bucket a little as he spoke. “I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with being boring. I’m just sayin’ you gotta admit, it’s not like you take any risks at all. Try anything new.”

Roy knew he should abandon his partner and this conversation, drop it and let it swirl away from them down the sink drain with the half of the water that was missing the bucket, but somehow he couldn't. He knew he should leave Johnny to clean up the bay on his own, it’s his chore, not Roy’s, but lately they’ve been helping each other with their chores and lately Roy can’t seem to step away. Not for all the irritation and sloshed water and hare-brained rants in the world. 

“I take risks all the time. You think I wanted to jump off of that cliff last week?” He sure as hell didn’t. It was Johnny’s idea to approach the rescue that way, hopping off of the overhang of a bluff from hundreds of feet up, rather than using the Snorkel and climbing from below. 

Roy couldn’t say no to Johnny these days. 

“Doesn’t count, Roy, that’s the job.” Johnny lugged the bucket out into the bay and Roy followed him.

“Why are you on me about this anyway?” Placing his hand over his partner’s mouth felt like something a partner could do, maybe, if he was feeling cheeky and if the day was right and if Johnny was on the lower end of his Richter scale of sensitivity, but it didn’t feel appropriate with how Roy… felt. Something like that felt intimate, felt untouchable, so Roy concentrated hard on not touching his partner at all. 

“I’m not on ya Roy, I’m just sayin’.”

It was Roy’s turn to roll his eyes at his partner’s infuriating logic. “I’m not boring,” he grumbled and crossed his arms and pretended that he was only annoyed and that there was no other reason for his neck to be this warm.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Johnny exclaimed, waving the mop handle at him, face lit with expressiveness and sharp features catching the incandescent light and Roy’s eye. “I’m just sayin’, you know, maybe you should try bein’ spontaneous once in awhile.”

“I can be spontaneous.”

“Pfft.” Johnny paused mid-mop, threw him a smirk, and god Roy just wanted to chew it right off of him.

“I can!”

“When?”

Roy frowned. “Joanne and I went to that concert two weeks ago.”

Johnny _pffted_ him again. “You bought the tickets a month in advance.”

“We never go out! That was spontaneous for us.”

“If you’re so spontaneous, why couldn’t you’ve come camping with me last weekend?”

“Is that what all this is about?” Roy felt something jump a little in his chest, something jumbled, something annoyed and guilt-ridden and laced with longing.

Johnny shrugged, slapping the mop against the cement floor and pushing it around in a haphazard fashion.

“We have kids, Johnny, I can’t just leave Joanne by herself without planning first.” He couldn’t just leave his perfect nuclear family and spend an entire weekend with his partner, who had him hot and bothered for a whole slew of reasons, who’d be just inches away with no distractions because he couldn’t think of anything more painful than that.

Johnny straightened, nodded toward Roy and said, “Boring.” He stopped to lean lazily against the closet doors, eyes twinkling, mop grasped loosely in hand. Johnny knew he was riling him up, he was doing it on purpose. Waiting for a response. And he looked so goddamned good doing it. 

Goddamn him. 

Roy was in so much trouble. And he was over this conversation, and his partner’s attempts to get a rise out of him. He suddenly did miss the engine after all. “I am not. Boring.”

Johnny smirked, and raised his eyebrows, and passed the mop handle smoothly back and forth between his hands.

“I am not boring!”

Johnny took a step forward, that frustratingly reckless grin still pasted on his face, and poked Roy in the chest. “Booooring.” 

“Dammit, Johnny!” Before Roy could stop himself, he’d grabbed a fistful of Johnny’s uniform and pushed him up against the closet. The mop fell from Johnny’s hand and clattered to the ground, echoing through the mostly-empty bay, the vibrations humming at the back of Roy’s throat, in his diaphragm. 

Johnny, for the life of him, had the audacity to look shocked, the audacity to look surprised, when he knew damn well what he was doing to Roy. 

Didn’t he?

Roy’s breaths were heavy, and through his nose, and he looked at Johnny under a furrowed brow and with a set frown and a heat building up inside of him that was burning, burning like a chemical fire, like he’d swallowed up the summer sun.

And though it hadn’t even been seconds, Roy couldn’t stand it anymore and his mouth was on Johnny’s, breathing in his partner’s gasp, crushing Johnny’s surprisingly soft lips against his teeth.

Roy’s brain was static and his heart was in his throat and something lit up inside of him, flashing over like he didn’t check the door with the back of his hand and Johnny’s lips were cooler than he was expecting and his partner smelled of coffee and toothpaste and something like eucalyptus and he didn’t want to but there was nothing left to do but pull away. 

He was still panting, eyes still smoldering and he glared at Johnny, waiting for a reaction, any reaction, wait what the hell did he just do? 

Johnny looked shocked, Johnny looked like he was in pain, it was swimming right in his eyes because he could never hide how he felt, and the enormity of everything hit Roy like a warehouse collapse, like an empty air tank, like he just threw the last fistful of dirt on his own damned grave.

Roy’s stomach dropped ten storeys, and he started to shiver, realizing what a big, stupid mistake he’d just made.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What the hell did he just do.

Roy stepped back and let go of Johnny’s uniform, now slightly damp from sweat where the fabric was bunched. And still Johnny didn’t say anything, his mouth was wide and he looked like Roy had just hit him, dammit, like Roy had just given him a beating or something, he looked so goddamned wide-eyed and stunned and hurt. 

Roy panicked and took another step back, waited another beat, before finally shrugging and turning on his feet, trying his best to be nonchalant like this was normal, like it was every day he threw his partner against the closet and kissed him, like maybe it actually didn’t happen.

Dorm. It was his turn to clean the dorm. It was a good time to clean the dorm. 

He paused near his bed, raking a hand through his hair, spinning a couple times to remember what he was doing in there. Clean the dorm. It never happened. Strip the beds. It never happened.

He wanted to make the chore last as long as possible but his heart was beating so fast, his adrenaline still raging that he tore down the beds quickly, almost violently. Dammit. Goddamnit. Fuck. 

All he had to do was be normal. Just be dependable, patient, calm Roy DeSoto. That was it. Not so hard. Ignore those feelings. Ignore that goddamned crooked grin, that tilt-a-whirl grin, smirking at him like he knew, teasing him because Johnny was a flirt even when he was being an absolute dick, even when he had no idea.

Why the hell did Roy let it get to him now?

Because Johnny.

Always because Johnny.

It was well over ten minutes before Roy finally heard Johnny’s inevitable footsteps. 

“Roy…” Johnny’s voice was thick, low, and he was hovering uncertainly at the door to the dorm.

“What?” Roy was very distracted with his chores, and was not hanging on every word John Gage said, not at all. Tuck the sheets. It didn’t happen.

Johnny hesitated long enough for Roy to turn to him from where he was working on Cap’s bunk. Finally, the younger paramedic said, “Why… why didja kiss me, Roy?”

Roy froze in the middle of stuffing a pillow into a new case, his voice caught in his throat and his chest about to burst. To hear it out loud… he suddenly remembered the feel of Johnny’s lips and something inside of him jumped painfully. He tried to meet Johnny’s eyes but couldn’t, so he settled on Johnny’s chest instead. Johnny had tried to flatten his shirt, but it was still wrinkled, still a little mussed up and god Roy just wanted to muss the rest of him up too but _it didn’t happen_ , it couldn’t happen. 

Finally, he found some words. “Because I was being spontaneous, Johnny. Doing something _unpredictable_.” Voice sharp with fear and defensiveness, and confidence restored by the lie, he met his partner's eyes. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I...” 

Roy hated himself for the lie. He hated himself for turning this around on Johnny, making it his fault, making it seem like Johnny’d brought it on himself. But most of all, he hated himself for seeing disappointment in Johnny’s face, for seeing longing, because that wasn’t at all possible, he was crazy all around and he couldn’t bear it and he couldn’t bear any rejection right now so he turned his back to finish the bunk, to end the conversation.

“Oh… ‘kay.”

Roy could hear him hovering for a couple of seconds, hear him shifting from foot to foot, nervous energy remaining even if Roy had finally found a way to shut him up, before his footsteps moved slowly away.

The rest of the shift was quiet and excruciating and went by like a long walk to the gallows.

* * *

Roy stood outside Johnny’s apartment door, shoulders slumped and chewing on his bottom lip so hard his mouth had a coppery taste. It wasn’t bleeding yet, but if he had paused long enough to check in with how he was feeling, he’d know it was sore. 

Instead, Roy had spent the entire day trying not to feel. Anything at all. Even the loathing that had settled deep into his gut had been mostly at bay, mostly, although the sharp edges of that particular pain found temporary purchase when Jo and the kids left the house to pick up ice cream.

He had cleaned the coffee mug shards up before they returned.

Roy had walked back and forth between Johnny’s door and the elevator three times already. He didn’t even know why he was there. He barely even remembered getting there. 

He was supposed to be picking up milk.

It was late. Late enough for the hallway to be lit with flickering death glow halogen, late enough for the spots on the carpet to be shadows. Late enough for Roy to know he shouldn’t be there. It was sometime after ten. Not that Johnny was an early-to-bed person by any means. If Johnny was home, he’d definitely be up. And Roy saw the Land Rover outside, so he was home. 

And that was terrifying.

He didn’t know what he planned on saying to Johnny. Apologize, maybe? Clear the air? Double-down on the whole spontaneous thing? All he knew was that he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, about what he did, and he was sure that he could not survive until Tuesday.

Finally, in a burst of frustration that rivaled the one that had gotten him into this predicament in the first place, he knocked hard on the door. Hard enough to undoubtedly be heard. Hard enough to not be able to back out.

The moments stretched painfully out in front of him as he listened to Johnny approach the door from somewhere further in the apartment. Roy could tell Johnny didn’t even bother with the peephole before unlatching the door, because he was talking before he got it open, “I told ya I wasn’t in the mood to hang out, Darla.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped when he met Roy’s eyes.

“Who’s Darla?” Roy asked, trying to be casual, trying to bite down on the unfettered jealousy that he normally had such a good handle on at the station, enduring his partner’s tales of nurses and stewardesses and waitresses and… well the list went on.

“Roy?” There was a rawness in Johnny’s voice that struck Roy deep in his chest, in the space reserved for where he ached for Johnny, but this time he was the one who’d hurt Johnny instead. 

“Who’s Darla?”

Johnny continued to stare at him, dumbstruck. “Huh?” 

Roy usually revelled in Johnny’s perplexed expressions but he was too anxious to enjoy any part of this interaction. “Uh, can I come in?”

“Oh,” Johnny said, and stepped back, letting Roy through. 

Roy stood awkwardly a few steps inside, watching his partner slowly close the door behind them as if he was as resistant to having this encounter as Roy.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asked, running a hand through his already-messy hair, and Roy noticed he wasn’t meeting his eyes. 

“Um, I… I owe you an apology, Johnny.”

Johnny looked at him then, surprised. “What for?”

Roy looked back, incredulously. “What do you mean what for?” 

Johnny was gaping at him in that way he had when the world was moving around him and he couldn’t seem to catch up. 

“Geez Johnny, for... for what I did to you.” He waved his hand at his partner, couldn't bring himself to outright say it.

Johnny continued to look stunned. “But… but I was the one buggin’ _you_ , Roy.”

“You were… _what_?” Roy’s voice was sharp in disbelief, sharp enough that Johnny flinched and that movement, and Johnny’s words, pierced Roy deep. 

And Johnny was frozen, he'd lowered his eyes again and had that flat line of a mouth he had when he was upset, and it was as if he was expecting some sort of admonishment, some sort of rejection, like Roy’d push him out of his own apartment or out of his life, just like Roy’d been worried about for the past 32 hours. 

Something inside Roy twisted so hard it hurt, and he couldn’t help himself as he stepped forward and brought his hand up to Johnny’s face. Johnny blinked rapidly while still looking everywhere but Roy, but didn’t pull away, and he was all hard lines and tension but his eyes were soft and “Oh, Johnny…” was all Roy could manage to say.

Then Roy brought his lips to Johnny’s, like he could make it all better the same way he made it all worse. 

It was soft and tentative this time, and Roy languidly moved his mouth against Johnny’s, against the quiet, surprised sound Johnny made. And Johnny’s lips moved back, in a small, reflexive sort of way, and Roy’s entire body tingled at the feel of him, the heat of him, right up close with all of that anxiety and confusion and pain.

It was torture pulling away, but Roy could feel the dread encroach on him, he’d done it again and if there was a chance to fix things between them before, it was gone now, washed away like Johnny’s mop water at the station.

Roy was shaking as he dropped his hand and watched Johnny expectantly, waiting for the blade to drop, for the inevitable freak out, for his partner to push him away and holler at him and pace.

But Johnny just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights at the swift turn of a road. His voice was high-pitched and cracked as he asked, “W-why didja kiss me?”

And this time, Roy couldn’t lie, and it wasn’t just Roy’s voice that was breaking. “Because I wanted to.”

There was a pause like neither of them were even breathing, like the air-sucking silence right before a flashover. “Johnny.” He waited until he caught his partner’s eye, held Johnny’s brown eyes with his own, before saying it again. “I wanted to.”

And because he knew this was the end, because he knew he’d ruined their friendship anyway, their partnership, probably his whole career, Roy decided it didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore so why give a fuck and he was kissing him again.

He pressed Johnny against the door and Johnny let out another small cry against Roy’s mouth and it spurred Roy on, fanned the flames and all he knew was that he’d never felt so hungry, so needing, so rapt with red hot energy he felt like he could explode and he was opening his mouth against Johnny’s, and suddenly – 

Johnny was kissing him back.

This time, it didn’t feel reflexive, Johnny was pressing back into Roy and he picked up the pace a little and then Roy was tasting him, and Johnny’s mouth was hot and vaguely metallic and Roy’s heart was so far up his throat he felt light-headed, felt like he might pass out because was this really happening?

He felt Johnny’s hands tentatively grab his waist and Roy's knees gave a little, and he pushed harder into his partner so he could stay on his feet, so that he didn't just spill his whole self all over the apartment floor. 

Then Johnny pulled away. 

He slid away from Roy and the door and left Roy feeling that empty space like the moment before the drop off a cliff, like the covers torn away in the cold. Roy turned to watch his partner take a few unsteady steps into the apartment and freeze, hand in his hair, his back to Roy. Then suddenly Johnny turned back to face him and Roy noticed that he had that look again, the one that was stricken, in pain, like he’d been slapped and didn’t know why.

“You’re not messing with me, are you?” Johnny asked finally.

“Messing with you?”

“I don’t know what I’d do if… I can’t… if this is some big joke…”

“Why… why would I joke about this?” It’s someone’s joke, out there in the universe, but it sure wasn’t Roy’s.

“I dunno, I… did I make you mad? I mean, I did, I made you mad at the station – ”

“Johnny,” Roy took a couple of tentative steps toward him. “I’m not joking.”

“I did what I always do and I went and pissed you off, I didn’t mean to, not like that, but I know I did it – ”

“Johnny,” Roy reached out and grasped the wrist of Johnny’s other hand, the one that wasn’t still in his hair.

Johnny looked up at him, surprised. 

“I mean it,” Roy searched his partner’s face, trying to figure out exactly what kind of damage he’d done. This wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. Johnny didn’t seem disgusted, or mad and Roy had been certain Johnny was kissing him back but was he kidding himself? Roy gathered his nerve, sighed and said, “I kissed you because – because I’ve wanted to for a while.”

“But… why?” Johnny’s brows were scrunched in confusion, his pulse erratic and he was trembling under Roy’s hand. 

But he didn’t pull away.

“What do you mean, why?” Roy said it, but he knew it was a good question, one he didn’t really have the answer to. _Why_ couldn’t he keep on pretending everything was normal? _Why_ had he given in to that damned impulse to kiss his poor partner in the middle of a shift? 

_Why had he fallen in love with his best friend?_

“Why… why me?”

The question sucked the air out of Roy’s lungs, sending a pang into his chest. Was he actually asking that? Of course he was, because his partner was insecure, he was uncertain, he was a mask of pretense and pride and rambling to protect himself from the people who mattered to him most, the ones who could do real damage, who could burn him down and leave him as cinder.

And for a second, Roy was angry. He was raging, throw-a-coffee-mug furious, because who in the hell had cared so little for Johnny that Roy had kissed him without asking, without consent, and Johnny thought it was his own fault? Who had hurt him so badly that Johnny’d believe it was all a joke faster than he’d believe someone would want to kiss him? 

_Why me?_

It echoed in Roy’s brain because he’s been asking himself that for days, months, even a year, and the answers were a tidal wave of everything, all of Johnny’s sharp edges and soft smiles and in the way he threw himself head-first into a rescue to protect their victims and Roy and everyone but himself.

It was the way his whole face lit up when he was happy, the way he always tried to solve Roy’s problems so that Roy wasn’t upset anymore. It was that damned crooked grin, the one Roy just wanted to chew off his face, and that other smile he had, when he was serious, that was straight and dimply and so damned pure.

It was the pretty lines of his cheekbones and the smoothness of his skin and his dark lashes, too long to not be pretty, framing even prettier eyes.

“I… I don’t know how to answer that, Johnny.”

Of course that didn’t come out right, and Johnny pulled his hand away, took a couple steps back, like Roy’d twisted the knife in his gut, and shit. 

“No, what I mean is,” Roy sighed and ran a hand through his hair and did he even do that before he met Johnny? “It’s you, Johnny. How can you even ask that?”

Johnny looked at the floor, and he crossed his arms around his stomach. “I don’t get it.”

Johnny would believe Roy would mess with him, would fuck with his mind before he’d believe that Roy wanted to fuck _him_ and that scorched at Roy’s insides like he’d swallowed blue-hot flames at a house fire and please, please let this not be what turns his partner to ash.

Roy swallowed and shifted closer to Johnny and said the hardest words he’d ever said out loud: “I like you, Johnny.”

Johnny still wasn’t looking at him and still looking like he’d been whipped. “What?” His voice was so soft Roy almost couldn’t hear him.

“I… I can’t stop thinking about you, and when we’re not working I just want to be at work with you, and god this is hard.” Roy was awful with feelings. Johnny was the feelings, was the expression, was the distraction so that Roy could be quiet and calculated and _dependable_ . Johnny was comfortable with emoting, couldn’t prevent himself from doing so even if he tried. But the way Roy grew up, expression was weakness, it was flaw, it was _boys don’t cry_ and _be a man_.

Johnny helped make it okay to open up a little. To express himself. To _be_ himself. 

“You… you _like_ me?”

Roy swallowed and nodded, his whole body shaking with the absolute fear of it all, with the knowledge that he’d given it all up, and this was why no one needed to know how he was feeling, ever, because to be this vulnerable is worse than a five-alarm fire and worse than jumping off a cliff for a rescue and almost – _almost_ – worse than a world without Johnny.

“You’re sure you're not just messing with me?”

“For god's sake Johnny, why would I make this up?”

“Alright, alright I just… I need to be sure Roy… I-I need to know, before…”

“Before what, John?”

Johnny gave him that long glance out of the top of his eyes, the one that reminded Roy of the bad runs, the ones that ended in crimson and cries and Johnny absolutely certain that he just hadn’t done enough. 

“Before what? Tell me, Johnny. Please.”

Johnny closed his eyes against whatever was bouncing around in his pretty brain and when he opened them again he looked at Roy dead on, so wide-eyed and solemn and scared that it startled Roy.

“I kinda like you too.”

The silence echoed, and Johnny’s kitchen had a loose tap and the dripping in the sink was pounding into Roy’s head, and he was sure he was hallucinating and he wasn’t even here, he’s at home and dreaming because he’s had this dream before, he pretends he hasn’t but he has. 

He was punch-drunk with hope when he finally responded, “You do?”

And instead of getting an answer, Roy stopped breathing when Johnny stepped toward him, cautiously, returning to Roy’s radius and his eyes were searching Roy’s and the overwhelming feeling of seeing Johnny, really seeing him, for the first time just about threw him into v-tach.

And then Johnny tentatively leaned in for a kiss, and Roy remembered to breathe, with a hitch and his heart started again not on its own, but with 400 watt seconds pulsing directly through him.

And this time they’re synced up, they’re on the same page, they’re on a rescue and they’re dancing around each other and all of those glances and nods and silent passes are all folded in together and pressed up against each other and everything just fit, like they’d always fit, since junior and pally and _paramedic questions last day today_ and can I borrow your pen?

Roy could practically hear Johnny’s voice in his head. _Incredible_.

One of them finally pulled away, Roy wasn’t sure who. Johnny settled his head into the crook of Roy’s neck, sighing, kind of melting into Roy and Roy wrapped his arms around him and held him, tight, breathing in the smell of him and intending to never, ever let him go.

Roy already knew the shape of Johnny. He’d held him before, pulling him back from a breakaway edge or bracing him against the wind or when something happened Roy’d rather forget, when he was worrying it’d be the last time he’d have his arms around him. Roy knows that they’re the same height, most days, but when Johnny’s feeling especially prideful or petulant he stretches a little bit taller and when he’s been scuffed and scraped inside or out he curls a little into himself, he’s a little bit shorter than Roy then.

So holding him now was familiar, sort of, but there’s discovery in how Johnny was seeping up against him, hot breath against Roy’s neck and just a little bit smaller than the usual days, like he was meant to be tucked away into Roy like that. And Roy maybe dreamed of moments that were some kind of similar but in his dreams Johnny didn’t unfurl, didn’t shiver so much, didn’t drive these goosebumps on Roy’s arms.

Johnny finally brought his head up again, didn't step away. “I didn’t know,” He said softly, his eyes focused on Roy’s chest.

“The hell you didn’t.”

Johnny’s eyes shot up to meet his in surprise. “I didn’t, Roy. I didn’t.”

Roy almost felt sorry for him, for the fact that he could never hide anything, not with those wide wells for eyes, and of course he believed him. “Okay, Johnny.”

“What happens now?”

Roy sighed. “I don’t know.” He didn’t want to unwind his arms from around his partner. He didn’t want anything but this moment to exist. 

“Joanne…”

Dammit Johnny. Roy shut his eyes, tried not to be angry, Johnny wasn’t being stupid, he just _would_ worry about Joanne, and Roy, about everyone at the station and all of their patients and the whole goddamned world before he’d worry about himself. At least when it came right down to the real things, the sharp things, the things that would gut him and pull his teeth out and bury him six feet under. Roy pulled Johnny in, pressed his head back against his neck, tightened his grip on his very own lightning, his very own livewire. “I don’t know, Johnny,” he said.

It was late. Late enough for the flickering TV light to reach the kitchen. Late enough for Roy to know he shouldn’t be there.

“You need to get home.” When Johnny wasn’t trying to be aloof and distracting and distracted, he was intuitive, he was astute. He could always read Roy like a book, even when Roy was trying to _be a man_.

“Yeah,” was all Roy could muster. Johnny was warm and real and solid in his arms and Johnny talked too damn much, and Roy should have known better than to think he could hold on to him for long because Johnny was pulling away, like he was suddenly self-conscious or his inertia had reached its limit or most likely, both. Johnny backed up and leaned against the kitchen island, shuffling a little from foot to foot, trying to look unphased but all Roy saw was what he figured was his own stunned, shy, first-degree blush reflecting back at him. 

“How… what did you say, ya know, to her?”

“I said I was going for milk.”

Johnny snorted, an incredulous grin taking over his face. “For milk?”

“I mean, I was. Going for milk. And then, I mean, I just… ended up here.”

Johnny stilled then, he was already standing still but now he was subdued and he looked at Roy, all pensive and full and soft. Roy usually knew what was going on in that mercurial brain of his but this time, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure of was that he really, really wanted to score some of that softness away, maybe really taste him, with his teeth because Johnny’s expression was doing things to him like that time Johnny was confoundingly annoying.

Then Johnny got that look, the one that meant he had an idea, the one that usually preceded a lot of raving about some topic or another. He pushed off the island and went to his fridge, pulling out a carton of milk and handing it to Roy.

Roy looked down at the milk and back up at Johnny, too confused to even ask.

“Oh wait,” Johnny swiped the carton back from Roy’s hand, pushed it open and sniffed. He shrugged, took a sip, pondered it and then handed it back.

“Johnny?”

“This way you don’t hafta stop on your way back home.”

Roy laughed, and god it felt good to laugh. “I can’t bring home a half-empty carton of milk.”

“Just say you got thirsty on the way home. It happens.”

Roy was still chuckling as he went to return the carton to the fridge. “Maybe to you. I’m not going to steal your milk, Johnny. Plus, I think that’s even stranger than being gone this long.”

Johnny’s mouth settled into a pout. “Well fine, fine, don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Roy shook his head and approached him, placing a hesitant hand on Johnny’s waste. Johnny stilled, turned red, but didn’t pull away, and most definitely stopped sulking. “Thanks, partner.”

He pulled him in for an embrace, and Johnny wrapped his arms around his neck and tucked his head again and Roy knew this feeling, it was the feeling he got after Johnny’d almost died and he found out he was going to be okay.

He didn’t lose Johnny and they were going to be okay.

After a moment, Johnny asked, “Roy, uh are we, I mean, are we good?”

“Of course we are,” Roy said gently, pulling away and resting a hand on the nape of Johnny’s neck.

“What are you… do you think, maybe, I could see you tomorrow?” Johnny blushed and didn't meet Roy’s eyes.

Roy nearly jumped at the chance, and then he remembered, “Aah I can’t tomorrow. We have parent-teacher conferences.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ll see you at work on Tuesday…”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Roy said, and found himself kissing Johnny on the forehead. Then he sighed contentedly and let his forehead rest against Johnny’s, for a moment, for the best moment, before pulling himself away and heading for the door.

“Okay.”

Roy looked back at Johnny and thought he looked a little shy and sad and trusting, but mostly like he was the only thing Roy wanted to look at ever again. And then suddenly he had a new ache, the ache of leaving him behind, like if he turned now he’d never see Johnny again because he just found him, dammit. 

“I promise, Johnny.”

And Johnny grinned in relief, like he so often did when finding out Roy wasn’t _really_ mad at him, and it lit up his face and all of Roy’s insides and Roy held on to that image the whole drive home and all the moments leading up to their next shift.


End file.
